


Shock shock me, shock shock

by Wintertree



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-compliant slurs, F/F, F/M, Multi, Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 16:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7852750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintertree/pseuds/Wintertree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela takes another pull, hiding an uncontrollable frown. Is boring contagious? Is that what a shagged-out Aveline is like, easy-going and amiable? Again, just <i>intolerable</i>. If she had known, she never would have helped them get together or taught her that Antivan wedding-night cucumber trick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shock shock me, shock shock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keita52](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keita52/gifts).



> Title & starting quote taken from MIKA's "Love Today."
> 
> MASSIVE love to my main gal pals, Amy & Sarah, lights of my life, for betaing. Shout-out to our groupchat, "the suppressor's only friends," with myself being the suppressor and these kids somehow remaining to be my friends.

_Girl in the blue with the big bust on,_  
_Big bust on, big bust on._  
_Wait till your mother and your papa's gone,_  
_Papa's gone_  
_Momma, momma papa, shock shock me,_  
_Shock shock me, shock shock._  

* * *

 

It’s just that Donnic is so _boring_.

“Gonna drink that, Rivaini?”

Isabela rips her eyes away from Aveline and Donnic to flick condensation at Varric before going back to idly drawing shapes into the tankard’s side. The whole gang’s in the back corner of the Hanged Man after another humid day of killing slavers and stealing whatzits, and Isabela’s made the fatal error of sitting across from the newlyweds.

_Newlywed_ , in and of itself, makes her want to stab her twin daggers through her ears. The honeymoon stage should be a weekend of fucking and then back to business. But it’s been over a month since the wedding, and the two big idiots still haven’t stopped mooning at each other. Intolerable.

Varric leans closer. “What? Too busy fingering it to take a sip?”

“It’s _Fereldan_ ale, Varric. The trick is to drink it fast enough that it goes down your throat without hitting your tongue.”

Hawke makes a grab for the glass and laughs, “I’ll have you know that Fereldan ale is delicious and a point of national pride!” Isabela snatches it to safety at the last second.

“Naughty girl,” she says, reaching out and pinching Hawke’s grinning cheek. “The other trick is to make men believe you like the taste, and then surreptitiously spit it out when their backs’ve turned.”

“Sorry Hawke, she’s got you there,” Varric says.

Isabela preens and sets her sights on the Guard Captain. “Isn’t that right, big girl? Hello?”

“Hmm?” Aveline blinks away from whatever intense, sappy, romantic eye-fucking with Donnic had been demanding her time. “Whatever you say, Isabela.”

“Oh, _whatever_ I say, Aveline?”

Aveline doesn’t even respond, jumping right back into the terribly important task of counting his dreamy freckles and spoiling her fun, the bitch.

“Here, Hawke,” Merrill jumps in, “Try with mine!”

Isabela takes another pull, hiding an uncontrollable frown. Is boring contagious? Is that what a shagged-out Aveline is like, easy-going and amiable? Again, just _intolerable_. If she had known, she never would have helped them get together or taught her that Antivan wedding-night cucumber trick.

Hawke sputtering and coughing up half a lung of Merrill’s ale is a reasonable distraction, all things considered. Varric falls out of his chair, close to pissing his breeches, when the good and noble Champion hacks a hunk of phlegm into Anders’ long hair. It even gets a full-chested laugh out of Fenris. All things considered, she’s had worse nights.

Honestly, really, she doesn’t want to harp on it. It’s just that Donnic opens his mouth and all Isabela can hear is buzzing. It was exciting for a spell when she had saw how squirmy and awkward Aveline was (and oh, how she could exploit _that_ ), but… _him_?

If he were interestingly _bad_ , that would be one thing. Bad husbands are fun in their own right — like bad boys but more satisfying to make cry. And boy, do they cry pretty, especially when their wives have to deal with the aftermath and Isabela gets to spread out fully on the bed, luxuriously alone. Bad husbands are even more fun to kill, if she takes Zev’s word for it. But Donnic's so insufferably  _nice_ and  _respectful_ all the damn time.

Aveline’s strangled laugh pulls Isabela’s attention back to the happy couple. Donnic’s staring at the table in front of him like it contains the answer to Andraste’s cup size and Aveline’s gone drake red. For a hardened woman, it’s easy enough to make Aveline blush. Aveline releases a steady breath, as if checking herself.

Huh. Now _that’s_ interesting.

To a knowing eye, Aveline’s posture practically screams alert and stiff. Isabela recognizes it—her battle stance to strike out at whatever ne’erdowell crosses her path. Her right arm’s extended down, gripping something under the table.

Isabela tips her remaining ale into Anders lap for a truly entertaining yelp.

“Must I ask _why_ , pirate?” he sighs. Donnic at least chuckles automatically, as if he’s taking cue from the rowdy table. Aveline, however, barely reacts… a small twitch, perhaps?

“Must you continue to wear pants, mage?” she says.

“Yes,” both Fenris and Varric say in unison, sending Varric back off his chair and again onto the floor. Isabela tweaks Anders’ nose and saunters over to the bar.

As she slaps three bits on the bar top, Isabela leans back, searching for _some_ type of clue…

There it is.

Even from where she’s standing, Isabela can see Aveline’s iron-firm hold on Donnic’s wrist, where it’s inching slowly between her thighs. Isabela’s a bit shocked, she has to admit. Who knew the big girl had it in her, literally. Isabela must be staring.

Is the grip necessary to keep Donnic from being bolder? Or— _Maker’s tits_ —is Aveline actually pulling him _in_?

From this angle, Isabela can see a sheen of sweat on her upper lip, threads of hair escaping the laughably loose ponytail.

For all of Aveline’s sniping at her “whorish ways” and “crass behavior,” _Isabela_ never got off at a bar table surrounded by friends. Well, not these friends. And not this bar. Still, some things are sacred, like old whiskey, a fine boat, and a well-oiled Qunari.

Isabela idly notes that Aveline has abandoned her heavy Guard Captain armor, instead opting for a lighter tunic and sturdy long boots. Maker’s holy left nut, did she dress for this reason? To give him easier access?

Somehow, the conversation loudly moves on to who can down their drink the fastest.

Donnic peppers the side of Aveline’s face with another light kiss, and Aveline takes a deep breath. Slowly, she unclenches his arm, places both hands on the table, and turns to Fenris.

“What about you Fenris? You’ve kept yourself out of this,” she says.

Fenris shoots her a smirk. “As have you.” Still, to the hoots and hollers at the table, he stands and begins to chug.

Any other time Isabela would kill for such a view, but Aveline’s brief squeeze on Donnic’s upper arm distracts her.

Then, she spreads her thighs slowly and shifts forward on the bench. Aveline clasps her hands together, going back to that steely grip as Donnic presses even closer to her side, hand still between—

“Here it is, then,” Corff says, slamming a new drink on the counter and startling Isabela. “Tell Varric if they break another table it’s going on his tab.”

She flips him a rude gesture and turns back to the table, the group stilling yelling at Fenris, who’s now bowing with deep flourishes.

Isabela catches Donnic’s gaze. An icy shiver runs down her back. She almost wants to look away, pretend she didn’t notice, but she’s never been that kind of girl.

Donnic casually looks away and turns his attention back to his wife. For a moment Isabela thinks that’ll be the end of it, but he must whisper something to her because Aveline freezes, caught.

Isabela toys with exposing them, but instead she raises her new glass in a salute. Maybe she’s gone soft on the old girl, but maybe it’s more fun this way—a game for just the three of them.

Aveline’s still for so long Isabela starts to wonder if she made the wrong call. But a moment later Aveline seems to melt, pushing her back into more of an arch and rolling her hips slightly forward. Despite only catching her profile, Isabela can tell Aveline’s subtle smile is aimed directly at her.

Isabela takes a deep pull of her ale. Perhaps not so boring after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was so excited by your prompts, I sat down the night I got my assignment and banged this out until 3am (despite having to get up for work at 7:30). I...might have pulled from my irrational jealousy of Donnic & my deep grief that there's no Aveline-romance. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> again, big love to amy & sarah. i eagerly await us some time being in the same state again and splurging on a fancy Chilis dinner.
> 
> As a fun aside, I spent an uncomfortable amount of time scouring through Dragon Age Wiki to find the bartender’s name when I found this amazing tidbit:
> 
>  
> 
> _“If you order 30 (doesn't have to be in same visit) drinks at the bar, whenever you enter the bar after that, the patrons will all shout "HAWKE!" This is a reference to the television series Cheers, in which all the patrons would shout "NORM!" whenever he would enter the pub.”_
> 
>  
> 
> Did I waste 90 copper to get this? Yes. Worth it? YES. Did I also look up how money works in Thedas and learned that Fereldan copper is more colloquially referred to as “bits”? Yes, and I would also take a bullet for the dragon age wiki.


End file.
